They call me the monarch of the dead, the eternal life, the trample of all things, the soul screamer, the war whipper.
They say that I control all spirits, tear my fate, break the shackles, and oppress all beings.
They satirized me to use blood as a bait to weave the end of the world with famine and war.
They vilified me for using fear as a sword, and interpreted the end of the dusk with cruelty and indifference.
They described me as bringing destruction, hatred, anger, spreading despair, wanton arrogance, refusing to be confused, and arrogance.
They are just a group of cowards. When I arrived, they could only hide in their dens and tremble, no matter the warrior or the king, in the shadow of all things I raised, or kneel down! Either die!
But they are right, this is me…
This is… the undead king of Azeroth!